


Through a Glass, Darkly

by ladylookslikeadude



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fem!Harry, Female Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylookslikeadude/pseuds/ladylookslikeadude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siobhan Potter is a good Catholic girl about to walk into the world of the Saints of South Boston with her eyes wide open.  None of them will ever be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/721832) by [KiraKyuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiraKyuu/pseuds/KiraKyuu). 



Through a Glass, Darkly

Summary: Siobhan Potter is a good Catholic girl about to walk into the world of the Saints of South Boston with her eyes wide open. None of them will ever be the same again. Warnings: Religion, eventual smut, language, eventual threesome/three way relationship. Connor/Siobhan/Murphy

A/N: The beliefs in this story do not necessarily coincide with my own beliefs. I am not Catholic, and thus I have no clue beyond my research on Catholicism about it. Feel free to tell me if I’m wrong, but please do not flame over the content of this story. You have been warned in the summary. A story about the Boondock Saints is bound to have religious overtones, after all. I got this idea from reading Feathers by Kira Kyuu, but don’t expect it to be much like that at all, besides the name, which I love, and the beginning concept of her going to see her Doc of a grandfather. ;) 

Also, don’t expect this to really follow the plot of either movie. I enjoyed the movies, but I have no plan of separating those boys from Siobhan. At all. At it’s heart, consider this a love story with rather serious undertones. I fully plan on a happily ever after, and that does not include sending Connor and Murphy off to Ireland. Sorry if you don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.

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For all that her Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never loved her, and had in fact treated her with cruelty not quite edging on abuse; they had made sure that Siobhan Potter was a good Catholic girl all throughout her Hogwarts career.

Of course, this hadn’t exactly worked out like they had planned. They had wanted her to believe that her gift of magic was a gift from the Devil, when in reality she knew that it was a gift from God. 

But still, a good Catholic girl did not mesh well with a culture that still worshipped the pagan gods, and so she hid it carefully until her fourth year at Hogwarts, when she had been called by the Goblet of Fire.

_“Siobhan Potter,” came Albus Dumbledore’s grim voice, and the too small, too pale girl stood shakily before moving quickly. She knew better than most, after all, that to show weakness now would be suicide, and she had no desire to kill herself simply because she couldn’t control herself._

_By the time she had gotten to the Antechamber she was still pale, but her shaking had stopped, even as she protested her innocence. When the pronouncement came that she had to compete, she closed her eyes._

_“Are you not pleased?” The French girl, Fleur Delecour demanded, glaring at her with too blue eyes. “’Ogwarts now gets two bites at ze apple, two chances to win glory.”_

_Siobhan opened her eyes and the intensity of her gaze made the blonde young woman take a step back in reluctant fear even as the others shifted uneasily._

_“Ms. Delecour, I am fourteen years old, forced to compete in a tournament based on the average skill sets of those three years older than me.”_

_She took a deep breath, and then drew a rosary out of her robes with a grim look, ignoring the shocked gasps of Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, along with the disturbingly knowing look from Snape._

_“I am going to die in twenty three days”, she finished softly, laughing mockingly at Dumbledore’s protests. “Yes, I am. Because I do not have the ability to compete at this level. And now I am going to pray.”_

She had knelt in a corner, because her prayers were private things, and this way she could still have a hope of keeping this a secret from the rest of Hogwarts.

Of course, it hadn’t worked, because Cedric Diggory never had been able to keep his mouth shut about things that didn’t concern him. So for the next year, she had been subjugated to the cruelest of taunts about her faith, and she had bowed her head and persevered. 

Of course, Seamus Finnegan was from Ireland, same as her mother, aunt and grandfather, and he was a good Catholic boy. 

Well, kind of. 

At the very least he protected her against some of the nastier comments, telling her, “We Irish-Catholics have to stick together luv.” She had asked, once, how he could tell that she had Irish heritage. He had laughed at her and said, “The accent never goes away one you’ve spent time with someone who has it.”

And her grandfather had certainly had it; even years after he’d went to the Americas from Ireland, ending up in South Boston of all places. She had visited once with her relatives, and it was a nasty place, although by now she had certainly seen worse. 

Still, after that one visit her relatives had never gone back, to her eternal disappointment. They had said that if he wanted to see them again, he would have to come to them. He never did.

After her fourth year, however, people had bigger things to worry about than her faith, although Ron never had quite forgiven her when he had caught her praying once, after she had thought everyone else had gone to bed.

The irony was in the fact that in Ireland, she was welcomed with open arms for being of the Catholic faith. And so after she had defeated Voldemort she had run to Ireland, where she could confess her sins to someone who could both absolve her and understand what she was talking about.

Which is how she ended up in a confessional, whispering, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was nearly one year ago.” She swallowed heavily; even with the knowledge that the Priest was magical she was nervous. “I killed the Dark Lord Voldemort.”

There was a soft gasp from the Priest’s side of the confessional, but after another moment of silence she began confessing all of her sins. From wrath to envy, and even lust, they were there. She finished by saying, “I am sorry for these and all of my past sins.”

The Priest began quietly. “I will say that I think th’ time ye spent trying to figure out how to defeat th’ Dark Lord is penance enough lass, but if ye need more, pray for th’ poor sod. He’ll be going straight to hell he will, and prayers for others are always welcomed by God. Yer a good girl Siobhan Potter, and a good Catholic. Don’t let anyone say naught to th’ contrary.”

Siobhan smiled softly and continued on without a word, finding comfort in the familiar ritual. “God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace to confess my sins, do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.”

“I absolve ye from yer sins in th’ name o’ th’ Father, th’ Son an’ th’ Holy Spirit. Amen.”

She bowed her head and repeated softly, “Amen. Thank you Father, both for the absolution and your kind words. I will pray for Voldemort, and I hope that it makes some kind of difference.”

She let herself out of the confessional feeling lighter than she had in a long time. And for all that Ireland had to offer, she knew exactly where she needed to go next. It was time to hand out her own absolution, even if it wasn’t wanted, even if she didn’t truly have the right.

It was time to go back to Number 4, Privet Drive.

Apparation was a wonderful thing, reducing a long trip to mere moments. However, in moments like this, she wished that she had never learned it. Standing still and silent for the longest moment, she took her time to survey the place that she had once been forced to call home. 

A deep breath had her moving quickly and knocking on the door, staring up into her Aunt Petunia’s pale green eyes. Not as vibrant as her own, but she still wondered how she had never seen the similarity. Maybe she had just never wanted to. And she smiled when he Aunt resignedly invited her inside.

Siobhan took a seat and looked at the three people sitting opposite of her. They were three of the most casually cruel people that she knew, and she had spent much of her time recently in the Death Eater’s dungeons, so that was saying something. But they were still her family, and that alone prompted her to speak.

“For the longest time, I hated you.” Her voice was entirely bland, and that was the only thing that kept them from jumping up and ordering her out of their home. Wondering how she could make such a vicious statement sound so calm and disconnected.

“You never loved me. You kept me in a cupboard, and if you look in book at what constitutes physical abuse, several things pop out very clearly. At the very least you neglected me both physically and emotionally, and it took me a very long time to get over that.” 

And then Siobhan Potter smiled.

And Petunia Dursley hated herself for the first time, because that smile was all Lily and their father, and this was Lily’s daughter and his granddaughter. And she had always loved her sister and her father, somewhere deep inside of herself; she had just so resented the burden placed on her family.

“But you gave me the one thing that has kept me alive all of these years,” she continued softly, reaching inside of her shirt and pulling out a banged up rosary. “You gave me faith that God would protect and love me no matter what. And he does.”

She stared them straight in the eyes, and then smiled again. “And I forgive you. I cannot hand you absolution for your sins, but I personally forgive you for your sins against me. Because I can’t afford not to, and you are my family, whether you like to admit it or not.”

Siobhan stood up, ready to leave, when Petunia grabbed her hand. “I will never forgive myself for treating a child so coldly,” the older woman admitted tiredly, “but your grandfather has been asking to see you again ever since we took you to see him when you were eight.”

It was a peace offering, and Siobhan took it as such. “Thank you Aunt Petunia,” she said gently, before extracting herself gently from her hold and walking out their door for the last time.

And then Petunia Dursley smiled, and went to go cook dinner. She hadn’t been the kindest to her niece, and she certainly hadn’t stopped Vernon from crossing the line to abuse more than once, but she had saved her sister’s daughter’s immortal soul. 

And no matter what, Petunia found that something to be proud of. It was also the first thing she had been proud of in a long time, and it was likely to be the last.

Siobhan was surprised, although she hadn’t shown it. She had thought that her grandfather hadn’t liked her, no matter how much he seemed to while he was there, but this put a whole new perspective on things. 

The man who had taught her so much about her faith, who had treated her kindly even as he shouted out random curses, he wanted to see her again. He had wanted to see her since she had left, so many years ago. And he still wanted to see her now, now that she was grown and broken in so many different ways, not all caused by the War.

And she smiled again.

Because that was one more person that she could let in and love, because he had never stopped loving her, despite the nasty lies that Petunia and Vernon had spewed. He had liked her better than Dudley, and had been the first person to tell her that she had her mother’s eyes.

He had been the first person to tell her anything nice at all about either of her parents, and that had stuck with her. Although he had never known her father, he had declared that he must have been a fine man; otherwise her mother wouldn’t have married him, let alone had a child with him.

And for a little girl of eight years, that had been a warm glow that not even Vernon Dursley’s belt could extinguish. It was also the only reason she had made it to eleven to go to Hogwarts.

It looked like Siobhan Potter was going to Boston.

And yet, once she gets there she is once again reminded that instant transportation is seriously overrated. 

And yes, she is ignoring the fact that even Dumbledore would have had to have made that in a couple of trips instead of one, but she doesn’t like to think about the implications of that, thankyouverymuch. 

There are many things that could be said about Siobhan Potter. She’s an ice cold bitch that denied every male that even tried to get close to her at Hogwarts. She may not believe in the whole ‘abstinence until marriage’ deal, but she also has magic, which many Catholics would gladly kill her for, so she’s pretty sure she’s allowed some leeway in the strict belief pattern. 

After all, she doesn’t believe in indiscriminate sex, just that sex should be with someone that you care about immensely. And no, she will not say the ‘L’ word. That word is no longer in her vocabulary, thank you.

So yeah, maybe her belief patterns weren’t quite in line with what typical Catholic doctrine said, but hey. If a fucking Priest tells her, after everything that she admitted to doing, that she is still a good Catholic girl, then she is still a good fucking Catholic girl, alright?

She is a murderer, and a Catholic. She has killed more Death Eaters than she can count, and she made Bellatrix Lestrange _beg_ for killing her godfather. She killed Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy and his son while Narcissa cried, and so many others. And she doesn’t know if she can be forgiven for that. They were evil, but they were human. 

Mostly.

Well, kind of.

The last, and most important, thing one should know about Siobhan Potter? She is not a _fucking_ coward. So she pulled open the door to McGuinty’s Pub and strolled right in as if she owned the place.

Which, you know, the owner is her _grandfather_ , so one day she _might_.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ A/N:  Whoa!  That was an incredible response to this.  I’m glad that you guys are as excited about this as I am!  Keep in mind, especially during this chapter, that this is not going to be a realistic romance.  I know realistic romance, and it sucks.  Badly. So for real, don’t expect it here.  _ **

**__ **

**_  Besides, in my mind they’ve watched her for years and they knew her when they were all younger, so it’s not completely out of the blue!  Now, for everyone who has followed and favorited my story, you’re awesome!  But not as awesome as the reviewers.  Wink wink, nudge nudge.  _ **

**__ **

**_ Not going to lie, I spent a long ass time fighting with this, trying to make the beginning of their relationship different, and then I just decided that they were too stubborn to let me.  So here you go! _ **

**__ **

**_  :D  Oh, and because I forgot last time… _ **

**__ **

**_ Disclaimer:  I do not own Boondock Saints or Harry Potter.  I own my plot, and that’s about it. _ **

 

Siobhan’s confident walk came to an immediate halt when she stepped into the room proper.  The roar of rowdy drunks seemed to slam into her like a brick wall, causing her to tense up in slight alarm, but a quick glace around showed no serious enmity.

 

 She couldn’t help but let her lips quirk into a soft smile as she saw the men around the bar give her granddad shit and him give it right back.  One day, she wanted something like that.

 

She knew that her grandfather was a veteran of a war as well, and it gave her hope that one day she could be just as normal as he was now.  Well, preferably without the Tourettes Syndrome, but she’d take what she could get.

 

But she hadn’t come all the way from England just to watch living proof that her grandfather was just as bad ass as she was, even if his mixing and matching of phrases and random swears had her muffling a soft laugh.

 

To her eternal amusement, it was that soft sound that got their attention, not the loud creak of the door.  And when they all turned around to face her, she shifted her glance to her grandda.

 

“Siobhan?”  The old man asked, an almost desperate plea in his eyes.  And she nodded silently before laughing softly at his jubilant cursing as he rushed from behind the bar to grab her tight, pulling her close.  “I’ve missed ye, girl.”

 

“I’ve missed you too grandda,” she replied softly as she returned his hug.  Even as she did so, she couldn’t help but resent her Aunt Petunia a little bit more.  Her grandfather should not have had to ask her if she was his granddaughter.  He should have seen her enough to know it without even blinking.

 

“Siobhan _Potter_?”  The incredulous tone had her pulling away a little bit to search out the person who actually knew her.  And sure enough, she found him.  Well, two ‘hims’ to be precise. 

 

She laughed in delighted disbelief.  “Connor and Murphy MacManus.”   Of course, she named them both because she actually had no clue which of them was which. She shook her head and stepped fully out of her grandfather’s arms, her finely honed instincts buzzing.

 

“I have to admit, you two grew up well.”  She noticed that she was falling back into the soft lilt of the accent she had always adored growing up, but she really couldn’t bring herself to care about it at the moment.

 

“Shit girl,” one of the snickered, “when did _you_ grow _curves_?”

 

Her eyes narrowed.  “Probably about the time you grew some balls,” she snarked back, suddenly regretting her decision for practical boots.  Right now she could use the confidence that four inch heels gave her, but she wouldn’t let that stop her.

 

Besides, she’d always resented the fact that her curves had come in right as the War was getting into full swing.  Her newly formed breasts had gotten in her way and had left her off balance more times than she could count.

 

 The only good thing about them was that they distracted the enemy on occasion, although that hadn’t been a good thing in Voldemort’s dungeon.

 

“She’s got you there Connor,” one of the other men sniggered, and she tucked the image of Connor MacManus into her brain for future reference.  Of course, she could tell the difference easily, they weren’t identical like Fred and George, but she hadn’t seen them since she was eight, and they both looked a hell of a lot different than they had then.

 

The twins stood up, and she couldn’t help her pout even as the others grew silent and nervous.  “Fucking _giants_ ,” she grumbled bitterly, and that broke the concerned silence as everyone laughed.  The twins weren’t any taller than normal, she was simply too short. 

 

At nearly exactly five foot, she had to wear six inch heels to be the average height for a woman, and that still wouldn’t have caught her up to their height.

 

But it sure as hell would have made her feel better.

 

“Boys, don’t fight!  M-My granddaughter’s back,” he paused to allow for his unintentional swearing, “And that’s something t’ celebrate.”

 

He glanced down at her.  “I-I’m surprised t’ see you here though.  Pet said that you didn’t want t’ see me again.” 

 

Siobhan pursed her lips, and her amused demeanor faded quickly.  “Let’s talk about that later grandda.  For now, why don’t you introduce me to your customers?”  She would really rather not go into a rant about her Aunt, especially right after forgiving her.

 

Now that she had realized that her Aunt hadn’t simply told him no, but had told him that she didn’t _want_ to come, well, forgiveness was going to be a little bit harder to come by now.

 

She was carefully forcing her voice back to her natural British accent, the reminder of her Aunt Petunia forcing her to put the musical accent of the Irish away, just as the woman forced Siobhan to all those years ago.

 

 Her Aunt hadn’t minded it so much, and had actually smiled at her once, but her Uncle hadn’t enjoyed it one bit, so it was safer of everyone involved if her Aunt had forced her to do it instead of her Uncle.

 

That didn’t mean that she didn’t still resent the woman for it.

 

“W-Well, you already know the MacManus boys,” he offered, and she nodded coolly.  Yes, she certainly did.  The Saints of South Boston, they were called, according to her sources.

 

 They were on a mission from God to cleanse the place they lived of the evil of humanity.  That was something she could get behind, even if they never knew that she knew about them.

 

Besides, they were obviously still the irritating jackasses that would never leave her alone when she was a kid.  Connor’s question had proven that quite well, especially since he’d always been the main instigator in their little fights. 

 

Thankfully, they’d never shown an inclination to hit her for fun, unlike Dudley, so their little fights stayed purely verbal.

 

Her grandfather went on to introduce her to everyone, but the MacManus brothers kept a steady stare at the back of her head even as she chatted away with her grandfather, ignoring his outbursts of swearing with the grace of someone who had spent too many years listening to their relatives spew venom.

 

And of course, everyone was aware that she was ignoring them, including the brothers themselves.  So no one was surprised when the hot tempered Connor made his way over there, a vaguely amused and mildly concerned Murphy following close behind.  And looking straight at her grandfather, Siobhan smiled as she felt a hand twine itself into her dark hair.

 

It was the start of the games from her childhood all over again, but she could already feel the difference.

 

And her grandfather smiled back, even as he shuddered, because that was Lily’s smile all over, and he had seen what his daughter could do to people to upset her.  He had no doubt that his granddaughter could do a hell of a lot worse.

 

“You’re ignoring us,” Connor pouted playfully from behind her as he pressed himself up against her back.

 

“Am I?”  Siobhan asked, tilting her head back to look up at him with glittering emerald eyes.  “It would be rude to ignore everyone else in here in favor of you two,” she scolded lightly.

 

And her grandfather’s smile turned into a grin.  Even when they were all younger, they had played this game of one-upmanship and mockery.  The only difference now was that Siobhan was older and wiser, and she could hold her own now when she couldn’t before.

 

“But I suppose you’re right,” she continued with a dramatic sigh, turning around slowly to give Connor a chance to unwind his hand from her hair.  But he didn’t, simply shifting his arm, and she cursed herself in her mind.

 

 ‘You are not going to sleep with those boys Siobhan,’ she scolded herself firmly, even as she felt her body reacting as her eyes darkened at the challenge implicit in Connor’s actions.

 

“Of course we are,” Murphy murmured, and something in her eyes flickered when he joined in on the game.

 

“Of course,” she agreed quietly, tilting her head in a way to meant to strain Connor’s wrist and force him to break the hold.  He did it, just as she had planned, but then Murphy’s hand took his place in her hair, and she smiled slightly, even as she panicked inside.

 

It was incredibly rare for Murphy to participate in their little games, but when he did, he could _play._ But right now, she wasn’t so sure that she wanted him to.  Still, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.  So Connor smirked at her smugly, making her quirk an eyebrow at him. 

 

Then she flicked her eyes to Murphy and grinned, deciding to make the best of his participation.  “Finally decided to play, huh?  Took you long enough,” she teased, making him smile slowly.

 

“Sweetheart, we both know that when I play, I play to win.  It wouldn’t be fair to ruin your fun too early, now would it?”  He asked, casually tightening his grip on her hair.

 

And then her grandfather broke in.  “A-As pleased as I am t’ see that my granddaughter will eventually have a good Catholic man, and Irish to boot,” he began, stuttering slightly and breaking out into a quick round of swearing, “There will be none o’ that going on around me.”

 

And Siobhan flushed.  “Sorry grandda,” she apologized quietly.  She had forgotten that they weren’t alone.  She had loved those boys as much as her little eight year old heart could, and now all three of them were older, but still the same in the most basic and important ways, and she _wanted them._

 

“Sorry Doc,” the boys chorused, and Murphy let his hand out of her hair, running his fingers through it gently.

 

They both looked rather fascinated by it, and she could understand that.  When she was younger she’d had a very boyish cut, courtesy of her Aunt Petunia, and now it was long and thick, styled carefully.  But they seemed to like it, and that was more important to Siobhan than she liked.

 

She would have to be careful around them.  For all that they had quickly fallen into old patterns, mostly because they still hated people ignoring them and she had used that to her advantage, she wouldn’t risk being hurt by them.

 

And they weren’t what she was here for.  It had been far too long since she’d had somebody pay attention to her like that, and it made her body ache in the way that said she was going to be spending some time under the cold spray of a shower.

 

But she wanted them.  And they were Irish-Catholic and intense as all get out and everything that she had ever wanted in a man.  Except for the fact that they were twins, and not one man.  Which meant that she was screwed.  And unfortunately, she didn’t mean that literally.

 

“We need t’ be up early for work tomorrow,” Murphy commented, glancing over at Connor, who nodded reluctantly.

 

They both got up and headed towards the door, but Connor paused and glanced back at her with a wicked look.  “We’ll be seeing you around girl,” he said, allowing his dark gaze to tell her exactly what they wanted to be seeing then.  And she wasn’t exactly opposed to it, because she had cared about those boys when she was younger, and still did.

 

Once she had been old enough, she had carefully searched them out and had kept an eye on them.  Just to make sure that the Death Eaters hadn’t found out about her American connections of course, but she had cheered to high heavens when she had heard what they were doing.

 

Of course, she had been less pleased about who their father was, but if Il Duce could help them on their divine mission, then so be it. 

 

Once her grandfather had chased the rest of the customers out, he sat down beside her with a chuckle.  “B-Both o’ ‘em lass?”  He asked, his Irish brogue coming out thicker than ever in his amusement.  “Well, I have no complaint.  They’re fine boys, they are.”

 

Suddenly he laughed again.  “But I will say tha’ I never saw them react so strong to a woman before.  Ye had a hold on those boys before ye left, and ye do again now.”

 

He read the caution on her face correctly and smiled a little bit.  “Their ma raised those boys right girl, they won’t treat ye badly unless ye do them a bad turn first.  An’ I don’t believe that ye will.”

 

Siobhan smiled, a bit of her fear gone.  “I’ll try grandda,” she said gently.  “But we’ll see how things work out.”  And she could not believe how her stomach jumped when she realized that her grandfather was giving her permission.  It might not be what she was here for, but it might be exactly what she needed.

 

“Aye,” the older man agreed.  “That we will.  We’ll also be talking about Petunia, an’ Voldemort.”

 

She felt all of the color drain from her face.  Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to reconcile the fact that her grandfather knew about Voldemort, knew about _magic,_ and he was still sitting here with her smiling.

 

“You know?”  She asked lowly, and Doc chuckled.

 

“S-Siobhan, most o’ us here in Southie know it.  Those boys especially.  They followed you in the papers for years, an’ decided that once you came back, you would be theirs.”

 

Siobhan was stunned.  They had followed her just as she had followed them.  Well, at least she felt less creepy now, she mused, almost numbed by her shock.

 

  He smirked a little bit at her gaping expression, and even his shouted curses sounded amused.  “An’ they knew ye’d be back.  They’re smart boys, so ye’d do best to tell them th’ truth an’ sit back.”   

 

She nodded slowly, before choking on air.  “Both of them?!”  Holy shit.  It had just hit her that her _grandfather_ was giving her permission to date _two men_.  _At the same time._   Twins or not, she couldn’t believe that her grandfather was giving her permission. 

 

Her grandfather laughed.  “Aye lass, th’ both o’ ‘em.  Ye’ll find tha’ those boys share _everything_.”

 

Siobhan was stunned.  She wouldn’t be the center of some messed of display of dominance towards the other brother.  If she chose to be in a relationship with them, it would be with the both of them, not choosing between them.  Until now, it hadn’t hit her like that.  Well.  That certainly changed things a bit, now didn’t it?

 

“Before we get into all o’ that, tell me what it is that Petunia’s done now.”  Her grandfather looked resigned, and Siobhan hesitated.

 

“Aunt Petunia hasn’t been so bad, really,” she murmured, tapping a finger on her jean clad thigh nervously.  “She’s the one who finally told me that you wanted to see me, after all.”

 

“Aye,” her grandfather agreed, shouting out some angry curses, “But she should have told ye long before now that I wanted t’ see ye.”

 

She sighed.  “Yeah, she should have,” she agreed tiredly.  “But Aunt Petunia and I didn’t get along very well, and these last couple of years I wouldn’t have dared, not with Voldemort running around.  I wouldn’t have risked you like that.”

 

Doc grunted, obviously not satisfied with that answer before demanding, “A-And her pig o’ a husband?”

 

“I would really rather not talk about it in too much detail,” she admitted reluctantly, knowing that she had just inexplicitly told him that Vernon’s treatment had been bad.  “But suffice to say that I will never speak to him again.  Ever.”

 

Her grandfather obviously wanted to ask more, but he swallowed his questions, although not his curses, and pulled her in for a tight hug.  “I’m glad yer here Siobhan,” he whispered into her ear, making her smile beautifully.

 

“I’m glad I’m here too grandda,” she murmured back, basking in the warm embrace of someone who loved her unconditionally. 

 

“Give th’ boys a chance, lass, and they might just surprise ye.”  With those last words of wisdom he pulled her up onto her feet and grinned, looking giddy.  “C’mon lass, let’s go see yer room.”

 

She fought back a gasp as she followed him up the stairs.  Her room?  He opened a door, and Siobhan Potter fought back tears.  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, looking into what most would consider a typical bedroom. 

 

But considering, not only the fact that she had spent her formative years in a cupboard, but that she had spent so much time in the Dark Lord’s dungeons, the slightly small room looked heavenly.

 

It was the same room that he’d given her when she’d stayed there the last time, but he’d obviously added some more personal touches, giving it a homey feel that she’d never had before.  “Thank you.”

 

Her grandfather smiled at her warmly.  “Y-Ye’re welcome.  Now get some sleep.  We’ll be talking about Voldemort in th’ morning.”

 

For the first time in a long time, Siobhan didn’t argue or glare and huff.  She just nodded, and when the door shut behind her, she cried for what her life might have been like if Dumbledore had placed her with her grandfather instead of Petunia.

 

When she dreamed that night, she dreamed of a world where her family had stood behind her as she’d been forced to kill a man turned monster, and she smiled.  Because even if that would never come to pass, now she had someone in her corner for good.  And that meant everything in the world to her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:  You know, for the longest time I debated with myself whether or not I should put the conversation with the MacManus boys in this chapter.  But then I decided that they deserved their own chapter, one that wasn’t completely filled with back story and angst. Besides, this chapter was getting pretty long, and I hate it when one chapter is five times longer than every other chapter in a story._ **

 

 

**_Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry Potter or Boondock Saints._ **

 

For the first time since she was eight years old, Siobhan Potter woke up with a smile on her lips.  Looking around the room, she couldn’t help the happy laugh that tried to bubble out of her throat, although she kept it firmly inside, simply allowing her smile to grow wider.

 

 She stretched out for a moment before slipping out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom.  Nature called, and she needed a shower badly.

 

After her shower, which had ended in cold water as she remembered the dark promise in Connor’s eyes the previous night, she returned her trunk to its right size and pulled several articles of clothing out of its magically expanded compartments. 

 

If Connor and Murphy MacManus were serious about what they had been implying, she would need a serious confidence booster of an outfit to get through the conversations that they needed to have without dying from embarrassment or shame. 

 

After all, she was pretty sure that they were going to want to know what had happened, and she would tell them.  It wouldn’t be fair to them not to, especially if they were going to be…intimate.  She forcefully suppressed a blush at the thought, but she couldn’t fully suppress the delighted shiver that made its way down her back.

 

 And that wasn’t even mentioning the conversation she still needed to have with her grandfather about Voldemort and all of the nastiness that would come of that.  It was a conversation that she wasn’t looking forward to in the least, but he deserved to know.  And if they were talking about Voldemort, they wouldn’t be talking about the Dursley’s.

 

Despite the fact that her treatment at Voldemort’s hands had been far worse than her relatives could have conceived of at their most sadistic, Siobhan couldn’t help but think that her grandfather would take far kinder to Voldemort’s actions than her Aunt’s.  At least the Dark Lord wasn’t family.

 

So she pulled on a tight black long sleeved t-shirt.  Well, it had been tight once upon a time, now it hung rather loosely on her still half-starved frame.  She should probably eat soon, although she wasn’t truly hungry.  Then again, she was never truly hungry anymore. 

 

Then she pulled on snug black jeans and her favorite knee high boots, this time with the heel, impractical or not.  She would not break her damn neck trying to look everybody in the eye.  Besides, her heels were the one weapon that she could always keep on her that nobody ever thought about.

 

A quick run of a brush through her hair and she smiled, ready to face the day.  The clicking of her heels let the men already in the bar know that she was coming long before they saw her, and when they saw her they whistled obnoxiously, making her laugh loudly, the carefree sound echoing for a moment before she stopped herself, her eyes widening.

 

She hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time.  A softer smile curved her lips as she moved towards her grandfather.  Now Siobhan knew for a fact that coming here was the right decision.  She would be happy.

 

“Girl, ye’re gonna make them boys have a damn heart attack once they see ye,” her grandfather told her, shaking his head before adding, almost matter of factly, “Fuck!  Shit!”

 

Her laugh was softer this time, but no less genuine.  “They’ll have to learn to deal with it.  These are my favorite boots.”  Besides, this was her confidence outfit.  Siobhan looked absolutely killer in it, and she knew it.  She hopped up on a stool and added curiously, “I thought you wanted to talk to me this morning?  I didn’t know pubs opened this early in the Americas.” 

 

She watched her grandfather’s shifty face for a moment before laughing at him.  “’s okay grandda, I won’t tell anybody.”  She winked playfully, making him laugh before shooing his regulars out of the pub. 

 

“I need t’ talk t’ me granddaughter, now get outta here!”  He cursed and scolded them all through the door and locked it behind them, leaving them alone together.

 

Siobhan sighed, twisting to hop up on the bar and cross her legs, propping her feet up on the same stool she’d been sitting on.  “Well grandda, what do you want to know?”

 

 While he formulated his questions, she mused at how difficult it was becoming to keep the Irish lilt that she loved out of her voice.  Oh, she knew that she had a tinge of it, she always would, but nothing like what wanted to come out.

 

It was something that she loved and hated at the same time.  It was a reminder of everything she could have had, if only Dumbledore had bothered to look past his own nose and see that Petunia Dursley wasn’t the right choice for the guardian of the Girl Who Lived.

 

If only he had bothered to look for her grandfather.

 

If only that foolish old man had bothered to do a lot of things.  If he had, she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be sitting here like this, dangerously underweight and scarred beyond recognition. 

 

“Why ye, Siobhan?  Why did ye have t’ fight tha’ monster and no’ someone else?  Why did a seventeen year old girl have t’ fight one o’ the worst monsters th’ world has ever seen?”  Her grandfather’s voice was surprisingly steady, and Siobhan looked away, chewing on her lip nervously.

 

How could she tell him when she didn’t even truly know herself?  It was ridiculous, what she had been told, it was absolutely silly, and she had no choice but to tell him what Albus Dumbledore had told her right after she had gotten her Godfather killed, because no matter how silly or ridiculous it seemed, it was the truth.

 

Or as close to the truth as Albus Dumbledore had been willing to let her get.

 

“There was a prophecy.  It was th’ reason mum and da were killed, an’ it was th’ reason tha’ he kept coming after me instead o’ someone else.”  She looked up then, and pierced her grandfather with a look so intense that he felt a slight tinge of fear trickle down his spine.

 

“I love you grandda, but I spent time in his dungeons.  It’s a time that I don’t want to talk about, not in any sort of detail.  I hope you’re okay with that.”  She took great pains to make sure that her voice was as clear as possible, because detailing what she had gone through was something that she would probably never do.  It was non-negotiable. 

 

“Can ye tell me what ye feel ye can then?  I want t’ understand.”  Her grandfather requested gently, making her grimace slightly but nod none the less.  He was concerned about her, and it was a nice feeling.

 

“During my fourth year at Hogwarts, I was involved in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

 

Her grandfather nodded.  “Y-yeah, we read all about tha’ lil clusterfuck.” 

 

Her lips quirked.  “Clusterfuck is a fantastic way of describing it.  So after that, Voldemort came right out into the open.  It was all out warfare, and the first thing that he targeted was the Daily Prophet.”

 

Her grandfather nodded again.  “Tha’s why we started gettin’ th’ Quibbler, I think it was called.”

 

“Righ’.  So, like I said, it was all out warfare.  My fifth year was horrible, especially because of a Ministry toady.”  Her green eyes hardened.  Dolores’ Umbridge’s death had been her first kill of the war, and the most satisfying.  “Let’s just say tha’ she was practicing torture on students.”

 

It was really the bare minimum of what that bitch had done, but if she went into it, she had no doubt that she would lose her already slightly tenuous control of her volatile magic.  She would rather _not_ destroy her grandfather’s pub, thank you.

 

She sighed.  “And then my sixth year.  By that point so many families had been touched by Voldemort, so many people killed, that everyone was blaming me for it all.  The fact that I was sixteen and still in school meant nothing.  I was their Chosen One, and I was supposed to end it before it began.  Eventually, it became safer for me on the battlefield than in the school, so I officially dropped out to become a soldier.”

 

Siobhan snuck a look at her grandfather, surprised to see him smiling at her.  “Siobhan, ye make me so proud t’ be yer grandda.  Ye made a choice t’ keep yerself safe, even a’ th’ cost o’ yer education, an’ ye’ll never see me fault ye fer tha’.  But if ye ever want t’ go back t’ school, I’ll support tha’ too.”

 

She slid off of the bar and hugged him tightly.  She had been so terrified of him being disappointed in her, and instead he was _proud_ of her.  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears that glistened in her eyes.

 

After taking a few moments to compose herself under her grandfather’s understanding eyes, she continued bitterly.  “I was a natural.  I thrived in combat, and everyone knew that if you wanted complete _fucking_ annihilation, you came to Siobhan Potter.  Needless to say, I moved up the ranks quickly.  I was _officially_ a Colonel, but I was called the Commander because even the General moved when I gave orders.”

 

She couldn’t help the nostalgic smile that took over her face.  “It’s not something I’m proud of, but at the same time I was doing something to fight against the people who wanted to kill off everything that was good and _truly_ magical about the world that I lived in.  And that’s something that I can’t help but be proud of.”

 

Siobhan sighed and went on before her grandfather could get a word in.  “At any rate, eventually the men and women serving with me started to resent me.  I was too good, why wasn’t I doing more, why was I moving up in the ranks so quickly?  That sort of thing.  So, when one day a messenger came, saying that Voldemort would stop his reign of terror if they just sent me to him, they agreed.”

 

She jumped a little bit when her grandfather let out a couple of vehement curses, and she wasn’t sure if they were because of his disease or not.

 

She quickly continued with her story.  “Of course, I didn’t take to that too kindly, and I took out a fair few of them while they were trying to subdue me.”  At the time it had hurt, having to fight against people she had gotten so close to, but now she just felt a vicious satisfaction, and it was obvious that her grandfather felt the same, judging by his proud smirk.

 

“They got me down and out eventually of course, but they made one huge mistake.”  She sighed, shaking her head gently. 

 

“An’ wha’ was tha’ lass?”  Her grandfather asked carefully, almost asking if it was alright for him to ask questions.  But of course it was, so she nodded at his question, thinking on it for only a brief moment before answering.

 

“They trusted Lord Voldemort to keep his word.”  She smiled grimly.  “The second that they got me into his dungeon, the Death Eaters resumed their attacks, and this time the people were too demoralized to help.  The more skilled fighters went AWOL, afraid that they would be next on Voldemort’s demand list.”

 

She suddenly smiled smugly, satisfaction in her tone as she said, “And then Voldemort made his own mistake.  He tried to break me instead of just killing me outright.” 

 

Her eyes gleamed fiercely.  “But I wouldn’t break,” she reported with the same ferocity that lit her eyes.  “And it made him furious enough to make the biggest, and last, mistake of his life.  He wanted to duel me.”

 

“An’ ye won?”  Her grandfather queried in the tone of someone who already knows the answer.

 

“But of course.  Mind you, it wasn’t a nice and polite, proper duel.  We both used all of the underhanded, sneaky attacks in the book, but in the end I was just a little more cunning than he was.  After that, it was a free for all, but I won that too.  And then I left the Wizarding world.” 

 

Siobhan shrugged lightly, the solemnity in her eyes belaying the indifference of the action.  “I just couldn’t handle their hypocrisy any more.”

 

“An’ ye ended up here.”  Her grandfather finished with a smile and almost pleasant sounding curses.

 

“Yup,” she agreed.  “An’ here’s where I plan on staying as long as ye don’ have a problem wit’ it.”

 

“N-no problem a’ all lass.”  He assured her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

 

“Eh,” she hesitated briefly.  “Ye may wanna listen t’ this first.  I ‘ave certain responsibilities even though I don’ want anythin’ t’ do wit’ ‘em anymore, an’ tha’ means tha’ some of ‘em are gonna end up showing up ‘ere.”

 

She coughed, shaking her head and firmly shoving her accent into the drawer in her mind she kept it in again, for what seemed to be the thousandth time since she’d woken up.

 

“Anyway, I’ll make sure that the bar, patrons and most importantly _you_ will be safe, but I’ll understand if you’re not comfortable with snooty arse wizards walking around your pub.”  She twisted her fingers together nervously, making him snort.

 

“Lass, ye’re me granddaughter an’ if wizards walkin’ around me pub is wha’ it takes t’ keep ye ‘ere, then alright.  Tha’s fine.”  He looked at her sternly while barking out a couple of swear words.

 

Siobhan smiled softly.  “I’m glad to hear it grandda.”

 

“An’ while ye’re a’ it,” he began, looking rather hopeful, “ye can feel free t’ let out yer accent.  Ye stand out like a sore thumb wit’ tha’ British one.”

 

She laughed in surprise, staring at him for a long moment before nodding.  “Sure grandda, I’ll try.  I’m pretty used t’ keeping it hidden though.  It wasn’t something tha’ British wizards appreciated."

 

She glanced at the clock absentmindedly and promptly choked on air.  It was almost four thirty in the afternoon.  They had literally spent all day talking.  And now that she thought about it, she could definitely feel her stomach complaining. 

 

“Food?”  She looked at her grandfather hopefully, making him laugh loudly.

 

“Aye lass, ye’ll get yer food.”

 

Siobhan smiled happily.  She didn’t like missing meals, not when her weight was already at an almost dangerous level.  Still, she was hoping that a stress free environment would help her in that aspect too.  She already felt happier than she could ever truly remember.

 

She hesitated for a long moment, and then decided to put her trust in the man who had never let her down.  “Grandda?”

 

“A-Aye sweetheart?”  He asked curiously.

 

“My weight is a serious concern.  I’m almost into dangerous levels, and between the Dursley’s and Voldemort my body just doesn’t really let me know when I need to eat.  So, if it’s not too much trouble, can you try and make sure that I eat enough?  After I talk with them, I’ll be asking Connor and Murphy as well.”

 

Well, she would if the conversation went the way that she thought it would.

 

A dark look entered his eyes at her mention of the Dursley’s, but he nodded none the less.  “O’ course Siobhan.  I’ll make sure t’ make ye something wit’ a lot o’ calories too.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered with a relieved smile.  It felt surprisingly good to know that someone that she trusted was going to be looking out for her health now.  She had never appreciated it before, but it had never been her grandda before either.

 

Now her only problem was talking to the MacManus boys.  And if the ruckus outside was any indication, she didn’t have very long to wait at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: I know, I know. It’s been a couple of months, and I’m sorry. But real life has a way of kicking me in the ass when I want it to the least. But rest assured that this will end up finished, even if it takes a long ass time. Tell me what you think about the lemon please. They are, in my opinion, the hardest thing to write._ **

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**_ Warning: There is explicit sexual content in this chapter. It’s fairly easy to see where it starts, and after it starts it doesn’t stop. Fair Warning. _ **

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or The Boondock Saints. I own my plot and my imaging of Siobhan Potter. That is all.**

Siobhan couldn’t help the small smirk on her lips as she watched Connor and Murphy tumble through the door with a load of other men and a few women that could easily masquerade as men.

 

She winced, scolding herself. She tried to be polite, even in her own mind, but it was damn near impossible. She’d never been polite, it reminded her too much of her younger years, when even being polite wouldn’t save her from pain, and during the war it had never been an issue, but if there was any time to try and learn to be polite, it was now.

 

Preferably before her smart ass mouth got her into any trouble.

 

She kept to herself quietly, just watching everyone for a few moments. She was just a little bit overwhelmed by the noise, because she had always learned that noise meant pain. Unlearning that was going to take a lot of time, and she knew that. She just wished that the instinctive urge to flee would disappear soon.

 

One of the men laughed, obviously already drunk. ‘Perpetuating the Irish drunk stereotype’, she thought, a little bit scornfully.

 

“Where’s tha’ pretty lil girl o’ yers Doc?” The man demanded. “Run off already? She looked th’ type.”

 

Her eyes narrowed and she slid the chair back, purposefully scraping it loudly against the floor. Everyone went silent as she smiled, her eyes dark.

 

“Nope, I’m right here,” Siobhan said evenly. “You got something you wanna say?”

 

The man’s courage failed him as everyone stared him down.

 

“No,” he grunted.

 

“I’ll give you a free pass since you called me pretty,” she smiled sweetly, “But if anyone else implies that I’m a fucking coward, I’ll crush your balls.”

 

She surveyed the pale faces in satisfaction before turning to Connor and Murphy. Her stomach tingled at the twin looks of approval on their faces, but she just tilted her head and allowed her smile to gain some warmth.

 

“I can talk whenever you’re ready,” she informed them as her grandfather came back into the room with a large plate of food.

 

He shot the man who had spoken previously a cold look as he put the food down in front of her, but didn’t say a word. His granddaughter could more than take care of herself.

 

Siobhan dug in happily as the conversation around her slowly increased in volume as the drinks began to flow. She had managed to finish a good portion of it when Connor and Murphy came over.

 

“You done?” Connor asked quietly, and she smiled up and him and nodded.

 

“Yeah, just lemme take this back t’ the kitchen,” she said quietly.

 

“I’ve got it,” Murphy replied, equally quiet. “You head out wi’ Connor. I’ll catch up.”

 

As she and Connor walked, Siobhan was very aware of him scrutinizing her. She didn’t blame him, she looked a lot different.

 

“Ye have no clue what tha’ outfit does to us, do ye?” Connor asked rhetorically as Murphy jogged a bit to catch up to them.

 

Siobhan’s lips quirked in a faint smile.

 

“Oh, I have some idea. But this is my favorite outfit, and I needed the confidence today.” She paused. “Also the height. Hell, I _always_ need the height.”

 

“I like ye like this,” Murphy said, tugging at her slightly to pull her closer. “Ye fit very nicely.”

 

Connor nodded in agreement, desire evident in the darkness of his eyes and the slight quickening of his breath- _no_.

 

She was not going to do this. She was not going to analyze their every move like she was on the battlefield. That was the way insanity laid, and she refused to prove everyone right about her.

 

So Siobhan smirked and leaned into Murphy slightly before reminding him, “I’m also wearing heels right now, so I’ll be a fair sight shorter once they come off.”

 

Murphy leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he asked, “Will they be coming off tonight?”

 

A small shiver of desire raced down her spine to pool in her stomach, and by the soft huff of barely there laughter in her ear, Murphy had noticed.

 

“Probably,” she replied quietly, “After all, they can get rather uncomfortable after a while.”

 

‘Lie’, her conscience hissed, but she shrugged it off. It was worth it to see the way that Connor smiled, slow and satisfied, like that had gone exactly how he had wanted it to, and to feel the way that Murphy squeezed her waist.

 

They continued on to the boys’ apartment, but once they got there they just stared at her, like they were waiting for her to do something.

 

“ _Yes?_ ” She asked, slightly impatient. She didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

 

“Any comments on th’ apartment?” Connor asked. But it didn’t seem like a true question. It sounded more like a challenge, but it was one that they didn’t have to worry about.

 

“I’ve seen worse.” Siobhan shrugged, before snorting indelicately. “Hell, I’ve _lived_ in worse.”

 

Murphy and Connor’s eyes met, and they nodded at each other before Murphy turned to her and said softly, “We need t’ talk. Ye know tha’, righ’?”

 

“Yeah.” She began absently twining pieces of hair around her fingers. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Don’ do tha’,” Connor scolded, untangling her hair from her fingers before pulling her to the table.

 

She supposed it was the kitchen table, although it was hard to tell since there were no real room dividers. The only ‘divider’ was the curtain by the showers.

 

“We read th’ papers, firs’ th’ Prophet an’ then th’ Quibbler,” Connor informed her flatly with a hint of the usual challenge, making Murphy facepalm even as Siobhan laughed.

 

“Well, at least I don’t have t’ worry about ye finding out tha’ I’m a witch,” was her only comment for that, before switching gears quickly with a sly smile on her face.

 

“I’ve followed ye as well, ye know. Th’ Saints o’ South Boston. Quite an impressive name.” Her green eyes glittered with a return challenge as she grinned at their gaping mouths.

 

Suddenly it was as if Connor couldn’t control himself any longer. He reached over and hauled Siobhan up against him, kissing her harshly.

 

Siobhan smiled into the kiss before returning a rough nip of her lip with one of her own. It was messy and rough and almost painful, and it was everything that she had never known that she had wanted.

 

She sure as hell knew now though.

 

But they both needed to breathe, so Connor let her sink back into her chair, tossing Murphy a smug look as she caught her breath.

 

Her eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything it was Murphy hauling her out of her chair, but he just completely pulled her into his lap so she was straddling him. ‘Better leverage,’ she thought dazedly as he ravaged her mouth, making her pant as the kiss broke.

 

If this was the only sort of ‘one-upmanship’ that she would have to worry about with them, she was in very good hands. That was one contest that she wouldn’t mind one bit.

 

She could literally feel her lips swelling as Murphy settled back to smirk at her, although he kept his hands firmly on her hips, a silent signal to stay put.

 

“That was not talking,” she informed the both of them flatly as she peeled Murphy’s hands off of her hips to flip around on his lap, rolling her eyes as they settled back immediately.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, it was fun,” she ran a tongue over her bottom lip, making Connor lick his lips as he watched her, “But it wasn’t talking.”

 

“Ye spent time in Voldemort’s dungeons. From what th’ papers say, it was pretty bad. How bad was it?” Yet again, Connor was blunt and Murphy made an inarticulate sound of exasperation as his head hit her back lightly.

 

Although it normally would have made her at least smile, Voldemort was the one issue that she could never smile about. Not ever. So she peeled Murphy’s hands off of her hips yet again and slid into her own chair, her lips pressed together tightly.

 

“Tha’ bad?” Murphy asked, his voice even softer than normal.

 

Siobhan let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. It was-shit, it was fucked up. It was all sorts of fucked up. I don’t- _fuck_.”

 

“Ye don’t have t’ tell us,” Connor said quickly, trying to make up for so callously bringing it up, ducking his head away from Murphy dark look.

 

He knew that he had messed up on this one, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to apologize like he knew he should.

 

“No, you deserve to know before-well, before anything gets started.” They deserved to have the opportunity to back out of this shit gracefully, with no hard or hurt feelings involved.

 

Murphy narrowed his eyes. “Ye don’ get it, do ye? Ye’re _ours_ now, no matter wha’.”

 

Siobhan’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “You might want to re-think that. I can’t tell you.” Hell, she hadn’t been able to tell anyone, not even Albus Dumbledore himself, what had happened in those dungeons.

 

“I can’t tell you,” she repeated. “But I can show you.”

 

She stood and quickly stripped off her shirt before they could complete their protests, leaving herself standing there in a plain black bra, her upper body nearly completely exposed.

 

“Fuck!” Both of the brothers had spoken at the same time, standing up to touch her from both sides, gently tracing the thick scar tissue that wound over her clearly defined ribs, up around her breasts and her neck and going down past the top of her jeans. Her back was nearly a solid mass of scar tissue, and all in all, it was horrifying.

 

“Ye’re so _strong_ ,” Connor breathed out, gently skimming his hands all over her torso.

 

“So strong, and all ours,” Murphy murmured in possessive agreement, his hands mirroring Connor’s.

 

“Strong is normally the last thing people would think after seeing that,” Siobhan pointed out, her back rigid and all of her muscles tensed up as she tightly locked up her accent yet again.

 

It was nice of them to say it, but this was the first time someone else had seen her scars outside of a clinical environment, and she knew what it looked like. They could say all the pretty words they liked, but she wouldn’t believe them.

 

“Well no one else knows wha’ th’ hell they’re talkin’ abou’ then, now do they?” Connor challenged, Murphy humming in agreement, his hands wandering to her bra clasp.

 

Siobhan’s eyes flicked towards him, but she didn’t do anything to stop him. She couldn’t explicitly say to go for it, because she was ashamed of her body, but she wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to see just how damaged she was.

 

Ultimately, in the ways that really mattered, in this moment right now, Siobhan Potter was a coward. She couldn’t speak about her scars, and she could barely bare to look at herself in the mirror sometimes, even fully clothed, knowing full well what lay beneath her carefully chosen clothing.

 

Murphy carefully undid her bra clasp, and she allowed the bra to slide down her arms and on to the floor. The scars on her breasts were even worse, if only because of where they were.

 

“Bellatrix enjoyed knives,” Siobhan managed to choke out, staring past Connor and Murphy at the wall, forcing her mind to stay blank. She didn’t want to remember that.

 

But she was scared and felt weakened and betrayed by her own mind, unable to remember her time in those dungeons without panicking. She knew that she couldn’t stop herself once it started, and she didn’t want them to see her like that. So she didn’t say any more, and they left her to her silence.

 

They traced every single one of the scars that were visible to them, and not one of their touches became sexual. Not even when they traced the damage on her breasts. So she let herself look at them again, and found them watching her intently.

 

This time it was Connor who took it a bit farther, touching the button on her jeans gently. Siobhan quirked her lips in a half smile before leaning against Murphy to pull off her boots. Next she carefully peeled off her jeans, relaxing a little bit.

 

The worst of it was over now. What was below the belt, so to speak, was nowhere near as horrifying and disgusting as what was on her torso, but they knelt down and traced the scars on her legs as well, especially the scars from where her bones had been broken and popped through the skin.

 

Connor and Murphy exchanged looks and nodded to each other. They still wanted her. This hadn’t changed anything, not really. It had just shown them how strong she was.

 

Connor stood slowly, rubbing up against her body, making her breath catch in her throat as she caught his eyes. “We still want ye,” he murmured into her ear. “Yer a good Catholic girl, but we’ll take good care o’ ye, we promise.”

 

Murphy stood then, and leaned into her. “Please,” he rasped into her ear, arousal evident in his voice.

 

Siobhan shuddered in desire, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

 

They smiled in unison, and Connor purred, “Perfect.” And then he was pulling her close and Murphy was following as they stumbled towards one of the beds, the boys’ clothes being pulled off and tossed to the side as touched her, rubbing up against her body.

 

Siobhan knew that she shouldn’t have agreed, that sleeping with them so soon made her a bit of a whore, but she had known them forever, and they wanted her for keeps. That meant something to her that even years of dating would never, and it was the sort of thing that made her tingle deep inside.

 

And by God, she wanted what they were offering.

 

“Oh!” She gasped as Connor’s fingers danced into her panties, slipping inside of her with ease, her arousal easing the way. Her head tilted back, and then Murphy was kissing her at an odd side angle that intensified the clashing of teeth as he tugged gently on her hair.

 

They fell together onto the bed, and there was laughter mixed in with the moaning as they tried to find a good position for all of them on the tiny bed. Eventually they managed, and Connor slid inside of her, making her lean back into Murphy as she tried desperately to cant her hips.

 

But Murphy held her hips down even as he rubbed against her ass, slick enough with sweat and pre-come that there was no painful friction.

 

“Fuck!” She swore, trying desperately to move her hips as Connor continued the torturously slow pace. “Connor, if you don’t fucking _speed up_ -“

 

“Ye’re wish is my command,” he drawled mockingly into her ear as he grabbed the back of her neck for better leverage as his pace quickened.

 

Murphy’s pace quickened as well, and he came at the same time that Siobhan did, his hoarse moan nearly blocked out by her loud cry as her body tensed tighter than a bowstring, the contractions of her core enough to push Connor to an orgasm as well.

 

For a long time, the only noise was their heavy breathing, and then Siobhan spoke.

 

“I’m sticky, and this will be very uncomfortable to wake up with.” She poked Connor, making his eyes flick open with a grumble. “Show me where your wash cloths are so I can clean up.”

 

Murphy froze. Connor froze. And Siobhan twisted around so she could see the both of them at the same time. “What now?” She sighed.

 

“I didn’ use a condom,” Connor said thickly, looking a little bit ill.

 

“Oh.” Siobhan blinked. “Well, I’m on a fairly foolproof method of birth control, so no worries there. Was there something else?” She asked curiously.

 

Murphy smiled slowly. “We don’ have t’ use a condom?”

 

“Nope.” She chirped cheerfully.

 

Connor smiled devilishly, pulling her back to his front so she was facing Murphy this time. “Well, let’s wait on tha’ wash cloth then.”

 

Murphy came towards her with an identically devilish look.

 

“We won’ be needin’ it for a while.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**_ A/N: So…it’s been a while, huh? My bad. Seriously though, between getting ready for school again and procrastinating about getting ready for school, time just flew. Also, I had some serious writers block on this chapter. Tell me what you think. Reviews are like my bread and butter, they keep me going! My apologies for the length, but the next chapter should be out fairly soon, so keep watch! _ **

 

A loud popping noise woke Siobhan up with a start, and the beginnings of panic when she realized she couldn’t move. But she calmed down as her head cleared and she realized that it was Connor holding her down.

 

He was sprawled on top of her, snoring softly and making her smile slightly as she took in his peaceful features. He looked surprisingly adorable when he was asleep.

 

Murphy was plastered to her side, using her as both a teddy bear and an anchor so he didn’t fall off of the bed. Thankfully, his breathing was nearly silent, as she was fairly sure that she would have been forced to punch someone in the face if they both snored in her ears.

 

Still, despite the snoring she didn’t want to wake either of them up, so it was with a surprisingly acrobatic move that she slid from between them. And then she promptly swore, because stretching her legs like that had been a bad, bad idea.

 

They had worked her over good. She could only hope that they were half as sore as she was once they woke up. And if they weren’t, well…she still had a few trick up her sleeve.

 

Murphy snorted loudly in his sleep as he turned over and grasped on to Connor, burying his face in his brother’s neck.

 

Siobhan couldn’t help but coo softly at that, because it was way too adorable for their own good. They were beyond lucky that she didn’t have a camera; otherwise they would have been woken up very unpleasantly.

 

She quickly pulled her clothes from last night on, grimacing as she limped over to the table where the Daily Prophet had popped up. Normally she would have ignored it, but the way that it had shown up told her that Hermione had sent it along in a hurry, meaning that there was something important in it for once.

 

She knew, deep in her heart, that she would never be able to read the Daily Prophet news wise again without triple assurances that their information was accurate, and that was exactly what Hermione was for.

 

One look at the front page, and Siobhan realized that all of her nightmares had come true in black and white print.

 

**_ Bellatrix Lestrange Escaped From Azkaban! _ **

 

Oh, there was no need for her to read the rest, because she knew exactly what Bellatrix would do. She would come after Siobhan, for killing her master and destroying her dream of a true Pureblood Utopia.

 

And, more importantly, she also knew exactly what everyone else in the Wizarding World would _want._

 

They would want her to come back to Britain and play bait, play the _hero_ yet again so they could catch Bellatrix quickly. And normally, she would be the first one leading the charge to get back to England, desperate to save as many people as she could, trying _so hard_ to make up for her failures as Colonel, as their _Commander_.

 

But _she_ hadn’t failed _them_ ; they had failed her in the end.

 

And now she didn’t want to leave.

 

This, she knew, was something to note. She had never before had something to stop her from leaving and helping catch whoever the hell it was this time.

 

But now she had her grandfather, who she knew loved her deeply.

 

But now she had Connor and Murphy, who wanted her even with a ravaged body.

 

But now, for the first time, she had somewhere that she felt like she truly belonged.

 

And that was important. It was so fucking important to her that she couldn’t find the words to explain it, even to herself.

 

And because of that, she knew that she would be staying exactly where she was, and she was going to let the Aurors do their jobs without any interference from her.

 

Unfortunately, she also knew that doing so would make her position on coming back very clear, and she knew that in doing so she would have the Wizengamot on her arse to relinquish the title of Lady Potter to someone else.

 

Preferably a man, she knew.

 

It always had made everyone incredibly twitchy that she had refused to marry and hand over control of her House to a man, but no one had bothered saying anything during the war.

 

After all, she had been more likely to die than any of them, and then she would have no say in the matter. She had always wondered if that had played into the decision to hand her over.

 

And then she had won and left nearly in the same breath, hiding out until her body had healed enough for her to be able to defend herself again.

 

She knew that if she had sought medical attention, something probably could have been done about the scarring. Maybe it wouldn’t have completely disappeared, but it wouldn’t be so prominent.

 

But despite what Snape had always insisted, Siobhan Potter was not a stupid woman. She had seen the way the wind was blowing there towards the end, especially after she had been handed over to Voldemort, damn near gift wrapped.

 

They wanted her gone, and she had given that to them. But it wouldn’t be good enough for them now that Bellatrix was out.

 

Because she would go through the entirety of Britain to find Siobhan and destroy her.

 

And Siobhan had to fight the urge to leave, to go to Britain and kill the _bitch_ that had killed Sirius and even now was threatening to ruin the life that she had clawed out for herself. But she actually had a life worth living now, and that stayed her hand.

 

For now.

 

But let the Aurors come and try to make her help them. Let the Wizengamot try and bring her back by force to take what was rightfully hers by birthright.

 

Let them threaten _anyone_ that she cared about.

 

They would get a nasty surprise.

 

Siobhan Potter had changed. She had been dangerous before, when war and fear and defiance of tradition had hardened her into a true warrior, one who followed a code of honor, but then they had betrayed her.

 

And that was something that she would never forgive them for, something that shattered her apart and allowed her to be re-made into a new image, one that they had no clue about.

 

She had people that she loved now, people that she would do anything that she could to protect. People that she wouldn’t just die for, but that she would kill to protect.

 

There was no code any longer, no honor in what she would do to protect them from anyone meaning them harm.

 

Siobhan Potter had been dangerous, but now she was deadly.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**_ A/N: Looky looky peeps, another chapter already! Aren’t you delighted and excited? I know I am! Over two thousand words without the authors note! I am beyond pumped. Just remember, as much as I adore faves and alerts, reviews make me squeal! _ **

**__ **

**_ Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondock Saints or Harry Potter. _ **

 

Siobhan had a plan at the ready. It was a pretty damn good plan too, if she did say so herself. And all it hinged on was her being her normal (if occasionally psychotic) self. It was one of the best plans she’d made, probably because it was so simple.

 

The only thing left to do now was wake up the boys and tell them a little about what was going on, and assure them that she would fix it.

 

_The_ boys.

 

_Her_ boys?

 

She didn’t know, not yet, and maybe not for a while if it all panned out like she thought it would, but she hoped that one day she would have an answer for that. And she hoped that the answer was yes.

 

She hoped to hell that it was, because Siobhan had lost far too much in her relatively short life to be okay with even the thought of having to give Murphy and Connor up for goo.

 

But until it was safe, until she was _sure_ that she could protect them, whatever the hell they were would have to remain undefined, because she would be _damned_ if she would allow someone to hurt them just to get to her.

 

She _would_ fix this, because this is the one thing that is truly her fault, but when she looks at Bellatrix and her mad eyes, she sees Sirius and his empty ones, drained by Azkaban and grief, staring back at her, and she’s a goddamn _coward_ because she can’t let this last, tiny piece of her beloved Godfather go.

 

And she hates herself for her own weakness.

 

So she will fix this once and for all.

 

“I need to go,” she said quietly in response to their nearly identical looks of sleepy inquiry. “I have some things that I need to do.”

 

And maybe her voice was just a little bit too calm for them to ignore, or maybe they saw the danger in her eyes. Either way, they seemed to wake up entirely and sit up, casual with each other’s nakedness in a way that said that it had happened before.

 

But that made her thoughts wander into dangerous territory, the sort of territory that used to keep her up at night with her own wandering hands and silencing spells, so she shut it down and smiled at them.

 

That smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she could tell that they knew it.

 

_The dilation of pupils,_ she noted distantly, _is a sign of high emotion. Last night it was lust, today it’s anger. Possibly fear._

But she doesn’t like to think of them being afraid of her, even in the smallest of ways, so she shuts down that line of thought too. She’s getting disturbingly good at doing so.

 

It was easier to analyze them than to talk to them, and maybe that was the problem with her. With them. Hell, with everyone. No one talked anymore, and Siobhan did _so_ hate acting like the majority.

 

So she forced herself to clear the ice from her eyes and sit on the edge of the bed, just far enough that they couldn’t reach her. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

 

“There’s been…” She hesitated. What to tell them? “A complication,” she decided, nodding her head to herself.

 

“What sort o’ complication?” Connor demanded, sounding suspicious and angry as he started to shift towards her.

 

Siobhan began to frown, leaning back slightly until he got the hint, and then the rage wasn’t just in his eyes and voice anymore; it was written clearly on his face.

 

She fought the urge to just get up and leave, because she had loved the MacManus boys since she was a child, and she wasn’t going to give this up just because Connor wanted to jump to conclusions.

 

Conclusions, she noted, that Murphy seemed to be sharing as well.

 

“Complications of _my_ sort,” she snapped, and they immediately looked contrite, although a look into their eyes revealed that their suspicions still lingered.

 

So she looked over their heads and pretended that the unfamiliar burning sensation behind her eyes was because they were dry, and not the threat of tears she knew it was.

 

Christ Almighty, she hadn’t cried in _years._ What were these boys dragging her down to?

 

“I’ll be at grandda’s,” she informed them in a calm, even tone that was as false as her bland smile. “I need to set up some protections there.” She paused and glanced around, because even as they threatened to make her cry, she loved them. “Probably around here too.”

 

Murphy started to look concerned, suspicion draining as alarm won out. “Protection from what?”

 

Siobhan’s lips twisted bitterly. “Wrong question Murph. Try again.”

 

This time it was Connor, guilt slithering it’s way into his eyes as he asked, “Protection from who?”

 

“Give the man a prize!” She clapped, a bit mockingly because she never had been able to control her anger well, and this was the best that she could do for him. For _them_.

 

And then she settled down and got serious. “Bellatrix Lestrange.”

 

Neither of them so much as twitched at the name, and something in her gut twisted into true fear, the kind she hadn’t felt since the Triwizard Tournament. They didn’t understand the danger that they were in.

 

And not only from Bella, she realized slowly, with a hint of dread.

 

Because suddenly she understood the way that plans were weaving together, in the same way that she had recognized the patterns of Voldemort’s attacks, and she snarled, making Connor and Murphy both jerk back in surprise, although still with that infuriating lack of fear of one of the most dangerous Death Eaters that had ever stepped foot in the Inner Circle.

 

“They’re using me.” The statement was soft and sounded tired, and they would have taken it for her giving up if they hadn’t seen the fierce look on her face. “They’re using me _again._ ” She focused on the boys, her emerald eyes like lasers piercing right through them.

 

“They’re going to use me, use _you_ , to get to me, do you understand?” Siobhan’s jaw clenched as her always volatile magic swirled up.

 

She understood completely now. Bellatrix would come, and she would decimate Siobhan’s family for the second time, and everyone was counting on her doing something that marked her as a danger to their society, so they could take away her title, and her freedom.

 

Siobhan stood up and walked to the window, staring blankly at the brick wall outside. She had given away more than she had wanted to, but she had been infuriated by their seeming lack of concern, and her own damning revelations.

 

And she wondered if she had made the right choice in leaving before she could carve out the cankerous rot that lived and breathed inside the Wizarding World.

 

Her volatile and (if she was honest with herself, and she always tried to be) dangerous magic would lash out in front of whoever was there. Her magic didn’t care if it was a muggle, the Minister for Magic or the Queen herself, as long as it got rid of the threat to her and those she cared about.

 

And it would rip apart anyone or anything that got in it’s way, which was probably exactly what they were counting on.

 

Siobhan couldn’t help it. She started to laugh quietly, but it wasn’t the full, rich laugh that had slipped out at her grandda’s bar. No, this was the bitter laughter of a woman when she finally understood just how deep the conspiracies went against her.

 

This was the laugh of a woman who finally understood that she had made too many mistakes in her dealings with the people that she had loved, and had thought loved her.

 

It was the laugh of a woman who knew all too well how quickly everything that she now held dear could be ripped away, that it could all be gone in a heartbeat, and then she would be gone too.

 

Her laughter cut off abruptly.

 

“I should have killed them all.” Her voice is almost childlike and lilting, but that too stops as Murphy grabbed her up and shook her like a rag doll.

 

And when had they gotten out of bed? She wondered dazedly, stumbling and dizzy when Murphy finally put her down.

 

She certainly hadn’t heard them, and she was normally the sort of person who would get jumpy at someone turning in bed, let alone actually getting out of it.

 

But it was Connor who spoke first. “Are you done yet?” His voice was sharp and angry, cutting straight through the haze of dizziness that kept trying to envelope her.

 

So she smiled sweetly, tilting her head up at them. “Not at all.”

 

Her smile disappeared, “No, I’m nowhere near done if what I’m thinking is true.”

 

She would have Bellatrix’s head on a spike, along with everyone else who thought that they could manipulate and control their warrior, even now.

 

“Babe,” To her eternal amusement, it’s Murphy, and a pet name she had never heard until that moment that calms her, makes her take a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing her rage to seep back into her skin and hide from them.

 

Later, they will admit that she had scared them nearly witless with her little display.

 

She won’t blame them, but she will also never tell them of the rage that runs through her veins and makes her smile with blood-lust in her eyes, like a child of Ares from the stories of old, a heathen claim that she knows would upset them.

 

She won’t say anything at all.

 

Later, she will think that it wasn’t a display, that it was the first time in years that anyone had seen the real ( _fuckingcrazyandgoddamnterrifying_ ) her.

 

Later, she will just smile at them like she does now, acting like she is once again perfectly sane, like the thought of them gone from the world doesn’t threaten to shatter her inside, like the thought of them and her grandda gone and dead doesn’t bring out the cold, dead side to her as well.

 

But for now she smiles and allows them to take her back to bed.

 

_Bellatrix will wait a while_ , she thinks to herself.

 

She silently begs God; _please let her wait a while_.

 

Finally she tells herself, truthfully, _you can wait a while._

 

She can wait a while until she destroys what little bit of Bellatrix that’s left.

 

When the boys are finally asleep again she hisses to herself in recrimination, “I should have done more than make her _beg_.”

 

Because soldier or not, warrior or not, mercy had always been something that she held close to her heart, even when all others abandoned it.

 

Perhaps she should have seen their wisdom and done so herself. If she had, she certainly wouldn’t be in the same mess she was in now.

 

But she knows, in that place that she has buried deep inside of herself, that they would have found another way to make her pay, another way to try and bind her to their world yet again.

 

And perhaps, if she wasn’t so furious with them for even daring to _think_ about it, she would admire the cunning and guile that it had taken for them to set this up. But it wasn’t only her own life that they were putting at risk now, and to her, that made all of the difference in the world.

 

Still, with Connor and Murphy now asleep and looking almost unbearably peaceful, she had to go. She had to protect her grandda and set a few of her own plans into motions, plans that she was almost certain that they wouldn’t approve of.

 

It was no little relief to realize that she didn’t _need_ their approval. Would she have liked it? Sure, of course. But she didn’t need to run her every move by them, and she didn’t feel like she did either.

 

So she moved slowly around the apartment, a ritualistic athame that she had found in Grimmauld Place slicing into her hand every time her blood stopped flowing, tracing ancient runes into their walls and watching them glow before fading away with a satisfied smile.

 

They were protections wards of the highest order, using a true sacrifice to power them, a sacrifice of blood. It was one of the few things she had left to sacrifice, but she would sacrifice it all to keep them safe.

 

She would do the same to her grandda’s pub and his upstairs apartment, and when she killed Bellatrix she would sacrifice her to the wards to power them for the rest of their natural lives.

 

Siobhan laughed quietly and coldly as she walked out of the apartment, a dangerous smile curving her lips, never noticing that Connor and Murphy weren’t quite as asleep as she believed them to be.

 

After all, she wasn’t the only one who had done dangerous things to even more dangerous people, and they had learned to lie to protect themselves, even from someone that they loved.

 

And because they loved her, they knew that they couldn’t let her go alone to do this, even if it put them in more danger.

 

Even if it put _her_ in more danger.

 

They were selfishly human like that.

 

With steady looks at each other, they got dressed and followed their girl to help protect the only family left on the earth that she would claim.

 

They would have words with her about using her own damn _blood_ , however. Just as soon as all of the drama stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

**_ A/N: Terribly sorry that it’s been so long my darlings, and quite frankly I have no excuse. It’s been a mixture of the ending of school, trying to find a job for the summer since I’m in an entirely different city, and quite frankly not having the motivation to find my outline and write this out. I’m still, unfortunately, not quite as enthusiastic as I would like to be with this chapter. It’s just not turning out the way that I want it to, but once May passed I knew that I just had to get this out, happy with it or not. _ **

**__ **

Siobhan knew that she was being followed. One didn’t fight in a war without gaining an odd sort of sixth sense about that sort of thing, so she purposefully slipped down a back alley to catch her stalker. It only took a few moments for her to realize that Connor and Murphy were the ones following her.

 

Her lips twisted into a darkly amused smile.

 

Of course.

 

They didn’t seem to realize the danger that they were putting themselves in, giving her a new found appreciation of how the Order felt when she and the others put themselves in harms way without truly thinking about the consequences. But at least she and her friends had had some idea of what could happen.

 

The newspapers hadn’t truly given an accurate account of what Bellatrix was capable of, which made her deeply concerned for Connor and Murphy. The newspapers hadn’t reported on half of what she was truly responsible for, only what wouldn’t scare the average citizen too badly.

 

They hadn’t reported how she would literally carve out the intestines of the prisoners, only to heal them with them half out, forcing them to live like that for weeks at a time on occasion.

 

Nor had they reported how she would dissect the corpses of friends and family right in front of the prisoners, reveling in the screams and tears. There were so many other things that they hadn’t reported that Siobhan couldn’t even count them all.

 

Just the thought of one of those things happening to Connor or Murphy, or her _grandda_ left her with a sick feeling of sheer terror, something that she hadn’t felt for a long time.

 

Well, there was no sense in sending them back when they would only find another way to insert themselves, and end up resenting her for acting like they couldn’t take care of themselves, even though the thought of them up against Bellatrix Lestrange made her throat start to close up out of pure terror.

 

Let no one say that she hadn’t learned something from her own youthful misadventures however, back when it was exciting instead of miserable.

 

So she sighed and waited for them patiently, and once they had sheepishly situated themselves in front of her gave them a stern look that visibly surprised them, amusing her although she didn’t show it.

 

It seemed like they hadn’t yet realized that they weren’t dealing with their childhood friend, but a very grown up war veteran.

 

“Listen to me very carefully,” she began, “I don’t feel like you fully understand how bad this is going to get. That would be fine, if you weren’t determined to see this through with me. As it is,” she sighed heavily, “You are both grown ass men, so you can handle yourselves.”

 

At the very least, she would _let_ them handle themselves, even if she wasn’t comfortable with it. Now that she thought about it, she may have a few control issues. Well, it worked out well when she needed to plan for war; she would see if it worked as well in what amounted to normal life.

 

She paused for a moment to allow her amusement to grow before firmly squishing it down, allowing her rage to grow in it’s place as her face grew dark and slightly malicious, stepping towards them. “But you will not interfere in what I do.”

 

Because they would be tempted. Probably more than tempted, quite honestly, as she allowed the malice that she had learned in the war to show.  They hadn’t liked it before, and they wouldn’t like it now, but they needed to learn that sometimes it was necessary. It was an ugly thing, but it was a part of her. It was part of how she dealt with Death Eaters.

 

They both quickly agreed to let her handle it, and they walked the rest of the way to the pub in silence. Siobhan was considering the best way to ward the building, and Connor and Murphy were watching her to make sure she didn’t slip back into the slightly psychotic way that she had earlier, torn between concern and curiosity.

 

Thankfully there was no one in the pub, and she quickly went to work with her athame, both cutting her hand _and_ cutting runes into the wood of the walls this time. She did this without a word to her grandfather, who was watching with a deeply concerned look on his face.

 

He recognized that look of intense concentration mixed with a hint of danger. Of course he did, it was one passed from his own dear wife down to Lily, and obviously now passed down to his beloved granddaughter.

 

It was a look that warned him that bad things were coming, and so he busied himself with preparing her a meal, allowing the confused looks of the MacManus boys to pass right over him. If they wanted to know how he could be so calm about his granddaughter bleeding all over his pub, they would have to ask.

 

Incidentally, Lily had done something very similar twenty years before, although she had asked permission and used animal blood instead of her own.

 

Using ones own blood, she had explained, links someone to that place until it is destroyed. Lily had ashamedly admitted that she didn’t want to be connected like that to his pub, to feel the need to be there so often, and so she hadn’t used her own blood and he had certainly not thought less of her for it.

 

But Siobhan _was_ using her own blood, and that meant that she wasn’t leaving, she was planning on staying. Or at the very least visiting enough that the pull to be there wouldn’t get painful, and that was more than enough for him to be perfectly calm and composed.

 

At least until Siobhan turned to face him, deadly serious, and said, “Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from Azkaban.”

 

He dropped the plate of food that he had been preparing to hand her, his face paling as he stumbled back.

 

“Shit,” she muttered as she leapt forward to grab his arm and steady him. “I’m sorry grandda,” she apologized sincerely, “I could have said that a lot better.”

 

But at the same time she felt a bit vindicated by his reaction.

 

He obviously understood better than the boys what Bellatrix being out meant, and how dangerous she truly was. Here, in her grandfather’s pub, warded and as safe as it could get she could finally admit what had truly bothered her about the reactions of Connor and Murphy.

 

She had told them plainly that Bellatrix had tortured her, had shown them the scars and told them how she liked knives, and yet they still acted as if it wasn’t something to be worried about, acted as if her deep seated fear and rage was something that she should hide.

 

Oh, Bellatrix was undoubtedly in England for now, but she would soon find out that Siobhan wasn’t there. And without Voldemort there to rein her in, she would search for her, and soon find her. After all, she hadn’t exactly bothered to cover her tracks. She hadn’t expected for something like this to happen.

 

It had been foolish to the extreme, but she had hoped that she could have a happy, simple life. A life without having to worry about people finding her, without people trying to kill her.

 

Obviously that had been a fools dream.

 

She had tried being the normal girl, but now it was time for the Commander to come back. She needed to take advantage of this tactical advantage while she actually had it, but she also needed to make sure that her grandda and her boys are safe.

 

Because yes, they are her boys right now. That may change later, but for now they are hers and she needs to protect them like she did the people in her unit and her friends, although never to the extreme that she was going to need to go to now.

 

Better yet, perhaps she needs to hide them away like she did her spies, so that even after this is over no one knows that she has a connection to them. It’s certainly something to consider.

 

And speaking of spies, she recognized the haughty owl that soared through an open window to give her a letter. Her best spy had news, and she knew too well that it was unlikely to be good news.

 

It never was with him.

 

_The Wizengamot is planning on having a witness at your confrontation with Lestrange. They are to hound and harass you until you lash out at them, and then they will arrest you, call you a danger to yourself and society, and strip you of everything before executing you._

It was a short note with no salutation nor signature, but it had the information that she needed, and that is all that mattered to her. And on the back she only wrote two words before giving it back to the owl.

 

_It’s time._

 

It was time to shelve her regrets and do what needed to be done, what she should have done in the first place. This was something that had been years in the making, planned in both anger and despair. It was the result of all of her rage boiled over into one final, bloody conclusion.

 

Maybe once this was over she could finally have some form of peace.

 

And for the first time since she had left Hogwarts, she didn’t want that peace to come from a body bag. And unfortunately, that meant that she was going to have to show a side to her that she had never wanted anyone to see again, let alone people that she cared about.

 

It was a side worse than the Commander persona she could slip into like a worn in old shirt. It was what had gotten her through weeks of torture and allowed her to come out victorious.

 

Connor and Murphy were trying to talk her down, she noted distantly. She considered the twist of their mouths and the way their eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

 

Fear. They were afraid of her. Well, that made them smarter about this situation than they had been so far. But they weren’t the ones who should be afraid, and she had never wanted to see them afraid of her.

 

Siobhan met her grandda’s eyes and saw her own steely determination reflected back at her, grounding her in a way that Connor and Murphy’s soft, almost desperate words were unable to.

 

She would win this, she decided firmly. Failure was not an option, not that it ever had been. But it was even less of one now. And for once, failure would occur if she died, so she would have to be more careful than she had ever been before.

 

She flexed her magic, careful to not let it out of her control. Losing control of herself wasn’t an option here either, and so now she was out of two of the many options that she’d had during the war.

 

Siobhan couldn’t help but laugh, just a little bit. She always had loved a challenge, and now here was the greatest challenge that she had ever been faced with. She would win, or everyone she loved would be put in grave danger.

 

No, it was worse than that. If she lost, if she died, everyone who was important to her would likely be put to death. It would be called a pre-emptive strike, but it would function as a warning to anyone who would call the government’s treatment of her unfair or unethical.

 

The fate of Wizarding Great Britain was fully in her hands yet again, this time by the design of man, not fate. And soon, it would be in her hands by her own design.

 

A slow smile curved her lips. She did her best when she had something to lose, and now she had everything to lose. So she knew, deep in her heart, that she would win. It was now inevitable.

 

But first, a honey trap, just to make things interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

Making a honey trap was a very careful procedure. You couldn’t make it too sweet, too obvious, or they could find a way to avoid it, and potentially shove you into it instead. It had certainly happened to her before, and it had not been a pleasant experience.

 

But if you didn’t sweeten it enough, they wouldn’t notice it, they wouldn’t come when you needed them too, and it could ruin your entire plan. Something that had also happened to her once or twice, leading her to work twice as hard on trapping as on anything else.

 

Yes, honey traps were delicate things, but Siobhan was very experienced at making them from the beginning of the war, when she was just going out on weekends and was still trying to pretend that she was a fairly normal teenager. Of course, after a while things had gotten so bad that honey traps were pretty much useless, but she hadn’t forgotten how to make them.

 

There were a lot of things that she would never forget how to do.

 

Oh, but what a struggle it had been, trying to remember the cunning and slyness that had allowed her to survive at her relatives house, that had made her a shoe in for Slytherin but for when she requested otherwise.

 

Gryffindor, as she had found out, led one to believe that honesty was always the best policy, even in wartime, and it had taken her a minute or two to figure out that such beliefs would eventually get her killed.

 

It was something that they had all had to learn eventually.

 

She smiled at her grandda and the boys, although her smile towards them was a bit more strained than she meant for it to be.

 

She knew that they were going to have to talk, but there wasn’t time right now. Just because she wasn’t rushing around didn’t mean that she had the time needed to sort this all out with them.

 

“Honey traps,” she explained, “Are when you use something that the target really wants to lure them to where _you_ want them to be.”

 

Something that they had already known, perhaps; but she enjoyed explaining things when she wasn’t rushed.

 

And currently, she wasn’t rushed at all. Bellatrix had no clue where she was, and it would take her a while to figure it out. After all, who would expect her to go to _America_? Stay in England? Sure, that was obvious. Head to Ireland? Yeah, definitely possible. But America? Not a chance.

 

And she would use that belief to her advantage to give herself the time she needed to plan this out properly.

 

Sometimes, making honey traps could even be termed fun, at least in her mind.

 

She fell silent, still working on her letter, a letter that was going to be conveniently intercepted by one of her spies and given to Bellatrix, possibly even on the Wizengamot’s orders. They had seemed oddly complacent about Bellatrix escaping after all, and she wouldn’t put anything past them.

 

Not even allowing one of the most vicious of Voldemort’s Death Eaters to escape.

 

Murphy frowned. “Wha’ does she want so badly?”

 

Siobhan gave him a startled look. “Me, of course.” How they hadn’t gotten that out of what was said earlier she didn’t know, but perhaps she should explain further.

 

After all, both Murphy and Connor looked like they were in a bit of a temper now, something that she herself was trying very carefully to avoid. Losing her temper now could only hurt matters, in her opinion. There was a time for losing one’s temper, and this was not it.

 

“Calm down,” she ordered, “And listen to me. I’m the proverbial ‘one that got away’ for her. She tortured me, I didn’t break, and she never got the chance to kill me. So for her, this is going to be her big chance to do what she couldn’t do before.”

 

Which, of course, was something that she could use in a big way, and she wasn’t quite sure why they couldn’t see that.

 

Her grandda was nodding slowly, the previous tactical work they all pretended that they didn’t know he had done for the IRA before coming to America telling him that this plan was a good one, one that could work easily.

 

One that had a lesser chance of anyone getting hurt than the other ones he knew she was contemplating.

 

But Connor wasn’t budging, his temper only growing. “No,” he snapped, “This isn’t something tha’s yer responsibility! Let yer government do this.” He wasn’t going to loose her just after they had finally found her again.

 

Siobhan cocked her head to the side, eyeing him like a particularly curious bit of spellwork. “Did you just tell me that I couldn’t do something?” She queried.

 

Her grandda winced. He had seen that expression on his wife’s face once-and only once. He had never been stupid enough to put it back on her face ever again, something that he hoped would also be true of those boys, although it looked like it wasn’t to be.

 

“Damn straight I told ye no! An’ I expect ye t’ listen t’ me!” Connor was just this side of enraged, and logically, Siobhan knew that she should let this pass. She knew that he was just scared that she could get hurt and that was translating into his anger. It was something that she herself had done quite often.

 

She _understood_ that holding her tongue would be best for all of them, and that now was possibly the worst time for her Irish temper to flare. In fact, now would be the best time for her English stoicism to show its face.

 

Unfortunately, Siobhan had never been very good at holding her tongue, nor her temper, even when it would be best for her.

 

She slowly stood from where she had been sitting and writing her first draft of her honey trap letter, clenching her magic tightly to herself, knowing even in the midst of her rage that she didn’t want to hurt them physically.

 

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Her voice was low and almost gentle in a way that was completely at odds with the almost berserker rage in her eyes. “I am not one of your whores. I will not bow to your whims simply because you get a little loud on me.”

 

And if either of them dared to lay a hand on her, she would kill them. It was that simple, because that was the one thing that she would not forgive. And she knew that her grandda would be right there cheering her on.

 

She took a step closer to them and almost, _almost_ smiled as they took a step back.

 

“But if you _ever_ try to _demand_ that I not do anything again, I will _ruin_ you. I am not a nice person, and I do not take orders from men who know _nothing_ about what we are facing. So sit down, be silent unless you have something useful to say, or leave. _Are we clear_?”

 

She stared them down, silently daring them to say something. But they sat down and stayed silent, something almost closed off in their expressions now in a way that she had never seen before. But that was okay. As long as they stayed safe, she didn’t care if they shut her out completely.

 

Her lips twisted into an amused smirk as she thought of what Hermione would say; as she sat down to finish this draft of her letter.

 

_‘Safety first, sex with the hot twins later.’_

She could almost hear it now.

 

She suddenly frowned, a furrow appearing between her brows as she cocked her head to the side as if trying to hear something far away. As a matter of fact, she had heard it. She knew she had, and this time she wasn’t half delusional with pain and fever.

 

She spun around on the chair and sure enough, there stood Hermione Granger, in all of her bushy haired glory.

 

_Fantastic._


	9. Chapter 9

**_ A/N: I’m getting this out a little bit later than I planned on, but it’s also a lot better than I though it was going to be. I kept fidgeting with it and changing small things, and I do believe that it has made it better. Pretty please review? I like to know what people think of my story. _ **

 

Oh, Siobhan still liked Hermione well enough, and still called her a friend, but it had been a long time since they’d shared the type of bond that they had at Hogwarts. The war had shown quite clearly how different their ideals were, and there were some things that couldn’t be overcome. And Hermione’s eventual inability to kill her enemies had been one of those things, and had been the thing that had forced her off of the battlefield and into the Law Offices in the Ministry.

 

And that meant that the fact that she was _here,_ of all places, was cause for great concern.

 

Quite frankly, she had no room for concern of _any_ type right now. Siobhan had far too much on her plate at the moment, trying to trap one of the most cunning and vicious minds that Voldemort had ever recruited.

 

Bellatrix had been a master of, not only physical, but mental torture as well, and it had always been well planned out and executed in a manner that only a mind truly inclined to strategy could manage. It was a terrifying thought that if only a few things had changed, Hermione Granger could have been the next Bellatrix LeStrange.

 

But it wasn’t like any of this was Hermione’s fault; and so she turned around, finished her letter, and then stood to greet one of her oldest and dearest friends.

 

“Hermione,” she greeted warmly, kissing the other woman on the cheek and clasping her hand in greeting. “How have you been?” The niceties must always be observed, even when there was a rush on things. Even, to her eternal consternation, during war.

 

“Quite well,” Hermione murmured, having learned much of the ways of the Purebloods in the years of the war, especially during her time in the Law Offices. It had been quite the culture shock for the stubborn young woman. “And yourself?”

 

“Adequate,” Siobhan allowed, her gaze flicking towards Connor and Murphy for a brief moment before focusing on her grandda. Any other time she would have introduced them all, but the time for pleasantries was at an end now, and as they were Muggles, it wasn’t something that the dance of manners required.

 

Even her grandda wasn’t a thing that was required, although she made a mental note to do it later, when the time crunch wasn’t quite so stressful.

 

It was not, of course, an oversight that she would have normally allowed herself to make, but time was of the essence at the moment.

 

Her gaze turned serious and she withdrew physically as she asked, “What news do you bring?” She was well aware that Connor and Murphy were nearly gagging at her formal turn of speech, but they were unaware of the ways of the Wizarding World, and she’d not yet had time to truly educate them.

 

Yet another oversight on her part, clearly, but she had truly thought that she would have more time before it became necessary.

 

She had thought that the Ministry would have learned better after the mass breakouts from Azkaban that had truly started the Second Blood War, as it was called. Obviously, they hadn’t, and thinking that they would have been smart enough to do so was obviously a mistake on her part. It was something that would have to be rectified once her plan was in motion.

 

Hermione closed her eyes, exhaustion showing on her pretty face for a long moment before she replied. “The Wizengamot requests that you surrender yourself immediately for questioning in the escape of Bellatrix LeStrange.”

 

Siobhan stilled.

 

So this wasn’t a social call, but it also wasn’t the friendly warning that she had expected, a warning that she had gotten multiple times before from her friend, who was one of the most trusted Law Witches in the Ministry.

 

For her one of her oldest and dearest friends to betray her like this…it was unthinkable, unimaginable.

 

“If you do not surrender willingly, I will then be obliged, on their orders, to take you in by force,” Hermione continued, refusing to look Siobhan directly in the eyes. No, instead she gazed over her shoulder, but even that couldn’t disguise the fear in the lovely brown orbs.

 

Fear that was well justified.

 

She had seen up close and personal what most of the Ministry workers never had; she had seen just how cruel and ruthless Siobhan was during her duels, and it wasn’t something that Hermione wanted to be on the receiving end of.

 

Siobhan couldn’t help it. She laughed, long and hard, until she was near breathless at the mere notion that the woman that she had taught _everything_ could ever out-duel her.

 

Voldemort himself couldn’t manage it, and they expected this little slip of a Muggleborn witch to manage where the worst Dark Lord in over a century couldn’t, nor his followers? It was a truly ridiculous notion.

 

“Do they truly expect you to be able to do this?” She asked, laughter having made her voice light, lighter than it had been for a very long time. The humor glittering in her eyes nearly made Hermione smile back, an automatic reaction to a pleasant expression on a face that normally only sported scowls and neutral expressions.

 

But this was too serious a matter for Hermione to allow herself that pleasure, even if it almost physically pained her to not acknowledge the fact that Siobhan was allowing herself to express emotion again, something that she had slowly stopped doing during the war efforts.

 

“No, I rather think not.” The other woman’s voice was dry as she met Siobhan’s eyes for the first time. “I do believe they expect me to come back dead.”

 

The blunt assessment shocked Connor and Murphy, who let out small cries, but Siobhan smiled, just a little bit.

 

_This_ had been what she had been expecting, this was the Hermione that she knew and loved. This was the Hermione that she had a deep, unyielding bond with, one that was now almost immediately renewed with this implicit approval of the plan she had once refused to even consider.

 

This was the Hermione who had come up with a plan that had wiped out nearly a third of the enemy forces without prejudice, only to loose her nerve the next day when she had finally seen the damage her plans wrought.

 

Siobhan would have to make sure that, if Hermione helped her with her plans, she never saw the damage that was done from them. Never let it be said that Siobhan Potter didn’t learn from her mistakes. She was not the Ministry of Magic; she would do better than she had in the past.

 

“Well, I would hate for them to be disappointed,” she smirked, Hermione now giving her an almost matching one. It was an expression she had only seen a few times in her life, when Hermione was slowly closing a trap on an unwitting victim.

 

It was normally not something that the young woman cared to do anymore, so this expression was both rare and promising.

 

Normally she preferred to force compliance through law and rules, beating her victims over the head with words until they submitted. It was more effective than Siobhan liked to admit, having seen the truly beautiful damage that Hermione could do when she put her mind to it, but it was gratifying to see that even Hermione could admit that there were some cases where the law simply couldn’t help them.

 

To think, she had thought mere moments before that her friend could have betrayed her. But no, she was merely giving her yet another way around the Wizengamot, another way to make sure her ultimate plan was a success.

 

“Come here,” she requested, reaching for the finished letter, “See if this is acceptable.”

 

Siobhan may have ended up doing very well with honey traps out of necessity, but Hermione had always been the most logical of them all, and she had created a sort of formula that worked nearly every time for herself.

 

And so the smartest witch of her age and the most vicious and uncompromising sat at the desk to read over the letter. The funny thing was, if you had put anyone from the Wizarding World in that room, none of them would be able to tell you which was which.


	10. Chapter 10

** A/N: This may seem like a filler chapter at first, but it actually does set up a few important points for later on. Also, I’m very sorry that it’s taken me this long to get this new chapter out, real life mugged me and left me for dead. I’m making no promises, but I should be able to get the next chapter out before the end of March if everything goes to plan. Beyond that, like I said, no promises.  **

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** Also, I’m working on a General Hospital fic, a Johnny Zachara/Elizabeth Webber one, with Ember1313. It looks like it’s going to be awesome! Also, yes, I am in fact shamelessly self promoting. Look for the first chapter also before the end of March. **

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** Please Review! **

 

Siobhan tapped her quill against her bottom lip thoughtfully as she eyed the letter. The wording was carefully careless, almost panicked in a way that was entirely authentic feeling. It was some of her best work to date, and quite a bit of it was because of the bushy-haired witch slumped next to her, hands covering her face.

 

Hermione groaned, her voice slightly muffled from her hands as she complained, “That was miserable. I had completely forgotten how much I _despise_ working on honey-traps with you.” It had obviously been far too long since she had seen Siobhan if she had forgotten that, since she had worked on dozens of them with her during the war.

 

At that she removed her hands from her face and glared at a smugly satisfied Siobhan.

 

Slightly giddy laughter bubbled up from Siobhan’s gut as she leaned forward, grasping Hermione’s hands and tugging them fully away from her face. “I dunno wha’ yer talking abou’,” she declared, happiness eating away at the strictly British pronunciation that she had been focusing on. “Tha’ was a blast!”

 

Huffing slightly, Hermione scowled, but Siobhan’s laughter brought out a reluctant smile after a moment. It had been a long time since she’d heard this bubbly, bright laughter mixed in with the distinctly Irish slant to her words that had disappeared the longer the War had gone on. But now it seemed like she was slipping back and forth more often than not, and it was…pleasant, to say the least.

 

It was a familiar thing, hearing her slip between cold and proper English and the Irish brogue that she’d had when she’d started Hogwarts; it was like slipping into a worn old sweater, comforting and warm in a way that she had nearly forgotten since she’d started working with the Ministry.

 

Hermione focused her attention on the letter for a moment. It truly was a thing of beauty, something on par and even better, in some cases, than traps they had made during the war.

 

_Dear Ron,_ it read,

 

_What in the bloody hell is going on! Bellatrix has escaped from Azkaban? I thought that you said I could trust you to take care of things over there! Here I am in bloody America, South bloody Boston of all places, and I get a newspaper sent to me with that plastered all over the front page!_

_Ron, I’m very busy reconnecting with my grandfather and some old friends of mine, I don’t have time to deal with this foolishness. And for the Ministry to send Hermione, of all people, to bring me in for questioning! We all know I can wipe the floor with her, what on earth were they thinking?_

_I need you to deal with this, properly this time. I’m busy helping my grandfather with his pub, I finally have time to truly relax. I need this time Ron, we both know that. I’m on the edge of shattering as it is, and knowing that Bellatrix is out there isn’t helping me at all. I barely escaped her with my life the last time, and we both know that I won’t escape unscathed a second time._

_Please Ron, just deal with this quickly. And do your best to keep the Ministry out of it. They’ve quite infuriated me, sending Hermione like that. I don’t want to deal with them at the moment, I’m sure you understand._

_Deal with this, please._

_Siobhan_

Siobhan watched her read the letter yet again, her satisfaction leaving her glowing as she rode this high to her next letter. This one was to let her spy know where the letter was going to be so they could ‘intercept’ it. The repetitions of ‘deal with it’ to simulate fear were Hermione’s touch, something that Siobhan hadn’t thought of.

 

The thought of even pretending to fear Bellatrix Lestrange infuriated her, but the war had taught her that sometimes it was necessary to do things that she disliked. And as much as she disliked pretending to fear anyone or anything, it was necessary to draw Bellatrix out.

 

It was like dangling a juicy steak in front of a ravenous lion.

 

She flicked her eyes up and noted that Connor and Murphy had left their seats and were now leaning against the wall, eyes trained on her. Normally that would make her smile, but their eyes were hard and she knew that they were dwelling on her rage from earlier.

 

She would be the first to admit that she was ashamed of how badly she had handled their questioning of her. It seemed like being so high in the hierarchy during the war had made her a bit snappish about that sort of thing, to say the least.

 

Siobhan wished that she could say or do something to ease their anger, but she wouldn’t apologize for what she had said. They claimed to have followed the war through the Daily Prophet, but if that was so then they should have known how desperately Bellatrix needed to be caught. So she didn’t know what to think anymore.

 

Especially since they apparently thought that she would sit down and allow them to order her about. She could feel herself starting to rage again, so she forced herself to take some deep breaths to calm down. Being so easily angered was terrible for her control of her magic, and she couldn’t afford to lose control right now.

 

As hard as it was, she had to remember that they didn’t really know her now, not like they had when she was younger. And when she was younger she had been far more pliable then she was now.

 

She had to give them a chance to get to know her again, and not just rely on the memories they had of that sweet little girl who had bowed to their whims.

 

It had been a mistake, she realized now, to jump straight into bed with them, after only a little over a day of being in town. Not only had it seemed to make them feel like they had control over her actions, it made her feel like a bit of a whore now that she’d had some time to think about it.

 

She certainly hadn’t meant to, but they had made her feel beautiful and desired, something that she hadn’t felt since she’d stumbled away from the torture that had destroyed her body.

 

Something that she hadn’t explained to the boys was that the torture had damn near ruined her reproductive capabilities as well-it was the reason she was on a contraceptive potion. She needed to be on a special potion regimen during a pregnancy, one that she didn’t have access to at the moment.

 

It was something that they should have spoken about before sleeping together, but she hadn’t been thinking and she didn’t really think that they had been either. Siobhan didn’t want to, but she regretted that it had happened so quickly. She wished she had gotten to know them again.

 

She wished a lot of things, none of which were actually important to the situation at hand, she decided, firmly blocking that part of her brain off for the moment. They had far more important things to talk about than how quickly she had fallen into bed with the boys she had been halfway in love with since childhood.

 

“It should work,” Hermione finally murmured, fingers tapping on the desk. She glanced over at Murphy and Connor, faint irritation making her eyes narrow as she asked, “Are you two planning on hovering over there for the rest of the night?”

 

Siobhan hid a smile as she turned around. Hermione had obviously figured out that they were angry with her, and had no patience for it. She rarely did, even now that they were so far apart. The bushy haired young woman was a protective lioness when it came to other being angry at Siobhan.

 

“It will work,” she said confidently as she folded up the note to her spy.

 

Hermione nodded shortly. “You’ve made preparations in case she decides to come after you here?”

 

“Of course,” Siobhan scoffed. “The war isn’t that long over that I’ve forgotten everything I’ve learned! It was one of the first things that I did after I found out.”

 

The very first thing she had done was have a complete freak out, of course, but she didn’t need to know about that. It was bad enough that Connor and Murphy knew about it, had even seen part of it.

 

“Good. Where are you staying?” Hermione queried, trying to think everything through.

 

Siobhan smiled, her heart warming as she remembered the room her grandda had prepared for her.

 

“Here, I’m staying here above the pub. Grandda got me my own room and everything,” she murmured, fighting the urge to bounce on her toes in glee.

 

A soft smile was all the response that got before the next question. “How’s your control?” It was asked brusquely, but Siobhan could see the sympathy in soft brown eyes.

 

Hermione of all people knew how badly she had struggled with control after her magical maturation.

 

She thought about it for a long moment, feeling her magic carefully. It didn’t appreciate being confined like it had been, but it wasn’t threatening to escape her control even with the low simmering anger that was still there from Connor and Murphy’s reactions earlier.

 

“Surprisingly good,” she murmured, and after a moment of watching her carefully Hermione nodded and relented with the questions.

 

“I’m just concerned,” she excused, and Siobhan laughed a bit, shaking her head in amusement.

 

“I get it,” she said, smiling at her warmly. Hermione always had been a bit neurotic about planning and making sure that all of the variables were accounted for. It was how she dealt with her nerves, and by now Siobhan was more than used to it.

 

Connor and Murphy wandered closer, even as her grandda looked concerned and he frowned as he asked, “Control? Of what?”

 

Hermione winced, looking over at Siobhan. She pursed her lips for a moment, not exactly pleased that this was the way that she was going to be telling Connor and Murphy about her slightly out of control magic.

 

“My magic,” she finally answered, tapping her second scrawled note on the desk nervously. “Sometimes it isn’t pleased to be caged up, especially when I’m angry or scared, so there have been some…incidents.”

 

‘Incidents’ was about the nicest word she could use, given that her out of control magic had ripped apart most of the Death Eaters as she and Voldemort dueled, and as she had ran it had left a trail of destruction in her wake.

 

“It’s probably what they want,” Hermione mused. At the curious looks all around she expanded, “For Siobhan to lose control. If she hurts one of you, or if she does enough damage that the muggles notice…” She trailed off.

 

“What?” Connor demanded, looking worried now. The anger was still there, but pushed back and down to make room for the more pressing concern.

 

Siobhan sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “If I do damage to you or enough damage that muggles notice they will label me a danger to myself, others and our society, and they will send a team to subdue and lock me up.” A mocking smile twisted her lips. “Only until they manage to help me gain control, of course.”

 

Her grandda’s frown deepened, getting what she was speaking around. They would lock her up for the rest of her life if this got out of hand.

 

Connor and Murphy got it too, so taking a deep breath Connor shoved his anger away and asked, “How do we make sure it doesn’t happen?”

 

Hermione hid a smile behind her hand at the soft eyes of her best friend. The woman was half-way in love with those two and didn’t even seem to really realize it. It was sweet.

 

“There’s really nothing we can do,” Siobhan admitted, a faintly affectionate smile curling around the edges of her lips. “All we can do is go on with business as usual and hope that it doesn’t come to that.”

 

But if it did, she had a plan. As a matter of fact, she had a plan whether they decided to try and lock her up or not. Sending Hermione to what they had no doubt thought would be her death had been the last straw.

 

She had run instead of fighting the system that had lead to the Blood Wars, and all that had gotten her was suspicion and recriminations, not to mention a threat of being locked away like some rabid animal. But running didn’t mean that she didn’t have plans and players in place, just in case.

 

And if Siobhan was an animal, she was a sly, cunning snake who always had a way out.

 

It was time they remembered that.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
